


gonna teach you tricks that'll blow your mongrel mind

by hikaristudio



Category: Kamen Rider Zero-One
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Femdom, Pegging, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, no idea where this is set at except for a nebulous eps 38 to 41 area
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-19
Updated: 2020-08-19
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:46:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25988425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hikaristudio/pseuds/hikaristudio
Summary: “You’ve been staring at the computer for the last two hours like you’re trying to make it give you the answer,” he says, cleaning his weapon. “You need to take a break.”“Well, whenyoufigure out how to stop an evil supercomputer, you can take a break,” she snaps back. There’s no heat behind it - her mind’s lost the thread of thought for a new code variation anyway. He keeps an eye on her as she hears him handle the safety gently. The gaze barely removes from her as she huffs, but she does push herself away from the computers. The different codes and pathways she has been staring at for hours disperses when she looks up to see Fuwa’s forearms taut and stretched as he aims his gun at the wall.
Relationships: Fuwa Isamu/Yaiba Yua
Comments: 8
Kudos: 15





	gonna teach you tricks that'll blow your mongrel mind

She’s never been more off-kilter than she has in the last few weeks. She knows this, and she knows that everyone has seen the cracks of steady composure which stings a bit. She’s used to making a plan, taking action, and seeing it followed through. Seeing all her plans and actions be in service of something far worse than she expected is the biggest marker of youthful naivete and idealism still guiding her. It fucking sucks, she thinks.

The Ark is no closer to being shut-down and she worries about how Fuwa’s belt can keep up without being completely destroyed by the Ark’s inhuman strength; the Jackal power up is out of the question given that she has yet to work out any issues within that could be used to compromise her. There’s no way to fight against a supercomputer that can calculate all variations of their fights, their data easily accessible as it maintains previous data and can take control as soon it enters within a five foot range. She’s gotten as much as she could from learning from mistakes made at ZAIA, but she is no closer to finding a solution for undoing the Ark. 

When she breaks away from whatever trance she’s in, it is to see Fuwa staring at her. The code on her screen blinks at her, almost as if in judgement. The specific line of code she stared at was in the process of being deleted before she stopped, mind returning back to the fatalistic words of Ark’s inevitability. Aruto’s Zero One driver also jumps from the back of her mind forward; wondering if they could even fix any corruption from the Ark. He hadn’t even noticed when she had taken it, but she knows - thinks - that he would want her to work on that while he was in control of his senses. Her thoughts turn back to her surroundings. 

“What?” She doesn’t look up, feeling Fuwa’s eyes on her. He’s her constant companion nowadays, working closely with her and reworking old A.I.M.S strategies to work with only a two person unit. Neither of them work for A.I.M.S anymore and it’s felt when she wakes up in the morning and halfway through her routine before she realizes there is nowhere she needs to be urgently. Her suits gather dust in the closet, the gunmetal grey reminding her of the office and the long van rides. He still wears his though - mainly because of his role as Aruto’s security. It is...charming? Pleasant almost, a reminder of his durability despite the fact that they’re no longer coworkers in that sense. Her apartment serves as a headquarters; given that Aruto was constantly attacked by Metsuboujinrai.net every other day, it made keeping her specs all in one place a lot more difficult if they were constantly blown up. 

“You’ve been staring at the computer for the last two hours like you’re trying to make it give you the answer,” he says, cleaning his weapon. “You need to take a break.” 

“Well, when  _ you  _ figure out how to stop an evil supercomputer, you can take a break,” she snaps back. There’s no heat behind it - her mind’s lost the thread of thought for a new code variation anyway. He keeps an eye on her as she hears him handle the safety gently. The gaze barely removes from her as she huffs, but she does push herself away from the computers. The different codes and pathways she has been staring at for hours disperses when she looks up to see Fuwa’s forearms taut and stretched as he aims his gun at the wall. She begins to open her mouth to tell him to be careful before she remembers the safety’s on, and despite all the barbs, he’s competent enough. It sets her on edge how easy Fuwa can read her emotions sometimes; he’s not the same hotheaded handsome idiot he had met when Gai had given her leadership of the A.I.M.S team. She banishes the thought and exhales, running her hand over her face. Fuwa is not an agent under orders but her partner now, for better and for worse; she needs him to be aware of her ticks just as she knows his.

“Hitting all the humagears that are trying to kill us until they break seems to do the trick usually,” he replies. She doesn’t even bother glaring at him, the glibness of his tone betraying the fact that they are all too aware the Ark has handed their asses to them multiple times by now. 

“You need to focus?” He asks as if he doesn’t know. Like he didn’t just irritate her into forgetting the line of code that if she just changed the root, it might bring them any closer to finding the solution. The hesitation still hangs in the back of her throat; there’s a thousand reasons why they shouldn’t do this. There’s a million others that yell at her to do it. She’s no longer working for ZAIA or A.I.M.S; it’s not like it’s improper. Regulation stated no workplace romance, but she knows that if you’re responsible enough, any relationship could be ignored so long as the mission was never compromised. Whatever  _ this  _ was, they’d never be compromised over the other. There’d only been so many times Fuwa asked her to put him down, she began to return it in turn - an odd comfort because even when push came to shove, he still went after her with all his focus. He put his life into her hands long ago; it weighed on her then in a way it doesn’t now. The Jackal form is a prime example of their strange rivalry partnership. 

Still, she hesitates before remembering she’s technically free from any organization. There’s a tenseness in the air between them as he winds down his care of their guns while a string around her feet itches to move closer. The nerves of not finding an answer collides with her old routine of using Fuwa as a sparring partner to their newer, intimate one. There’s a freedom in answering to no one, and she wonders if that’s why Fuwa deliberately ignored her over the comms in favor of that feeling. It is also the scariest feeling of freefall she has ever felt because nothing she’d done wasn’t calculated somewhat; the only solid place she knows that can’t be cracked is Fuwa. It means nothing to her. It means something that she feels secure in that knowledge. His gaze never leaves her face. The string snaps; she pulls off her coat. 

“I need to focus,” she exhales. He slides the gun onto the table behind him, and moves just as she pushes towards him. He’s the only thing that makes sense right now when the code is tricky and needs a specific order to function. He doesn’t need to fit anywhere; he’s solid and things work around him - he’s always been her counterbalance: impulsive, reckless and never listening to her directions. She’s envious of his convictions. She thanks god that he’s so stubborn, constantly throwing himself at any problem. As he picks her up, her legs wrap around his waist just as his hands slide under her legs to hitch her up higher like she’s weightless. That part remains exhilarating. She almost lets him sit at her work table before her hands run through his hair and tugs him towards the couch. 

He doesn’t hesitate like he used to, moving them so she straddles on top of him. Hand wrapped around her waist, his other hand tries to make quick work of the clasp of her bra. This part always takes him thirty seconds too long, even if the fumbling is equal parts endearing and maddening. No one could say that he ever lost focus, she barely thinks, before her mind goes fuzzy at the way his hands trailing down her body lights everything up inside of her. His hands pull at the button and zipper of her pants. They never get rid of her pants as quickly as they should; the friction of his hands trapped within her underwear works in their favor as the restriction drives them both into a delirious pleasure before they get to the actual purpose of this. Teamwork never fails, she thinks drunkenly as she bucks up against his palm. She tries to undo the zipper of his pants at the same time and gets as far as unzipping, There’s always so many fucking layers in doing this (his belt, the zipper, her own pants), he muffles a laugh against her mouth at her annoyance. It makes her composure crack too, huffing out a breath of laughter in whatever remaining air she can get out. It’s the briefest bit of respite before she feels his fingers pull at her underwear and move towards her clit, two fingers straight before he crooks them within. 

Despite his complete disregard for listening to any rules, he listens to the ones she sets in their bed - such as the one where she prefers to be on top. The only time he actually defies her is because he’s trying to get her off as fast as possible, so he can take it slower when he eats her out. The first time he had knelt between her legs, it was so sudden considering she was just under him moments ago before he slid further down to mouth at the fabric of her underwear. She almost kneed him in the jaw in shock just barely managing to avoid connecting. He pulled her to the edge of the couch, placing one leg on his shoulder and following it with her other leg on his other shoulder to wrap her legs around his face. 

“Do you trust me?” He asked, her heart rate jackhammering while her brain valiantly tried to make sense of Fuwa kneeling as the licks of his tongue on her underwear and above her center increased the dampness between her thighs. 

“Okay?” she responded, bewildered at the question. Her brain had vacated the premise of her own apartment as he kneeled further down and made extremely quick work of her underwear so that it was just her clit, the dark curls and Fuwa’s jaw already slotting up to lick within. She jerked slightly, her hand stretching to hold onto his hair as he licked slow. It was mainly her own pleas filling the apartment afterward, and how good it felt to have something other than her vibrator. 

Most times now, they take longer before they build up to their breakneck speed. After multiple attempts, and some accidental injuries from overenthusiasm, they’d established that they needed a decent amount of foreplay before Yua would end up on top and ride him towards completion. It could only be established as a kind of frenzy that verged animalistic, when there’s nothing else but the two of them urging each other to go faster or deeper. She knows he likes it better when she holds him down at her clit, digging her nails into any part of him but especially his scalp as her thighs wrap around his face. It’s the same way that Fuwa enjoys keeping her on top, digging his fingers into her thighs as he holds her down like he never wants her to get off. In the morning, the marks bloom like flowers, a private story between them that’s a lot better to reminisce over than the bruises they acquire from the rider suits 

He’s not the first person she would think of as her match; he’s not even someone she would usually go for, and in spite of all that, he’s solid. She likes him a lot better when he’s working against her direction in her bedroom because she knows whatever he does there can’t possibly kill him. Mostly. He did stay between her thighs for a record of twenty minutes once. His insubordination is tolerable here

His fingers angle inside her cunt, wetness coating his hand and soaking through her underwear as she rides the fingers. She tries to press her face against his neck,to bite, but he bares her neck to him so he can trail kisses from her neck down to her collarbone. There’s gentle bites as he gets closer to her collarbone. She shudders, feeling her release crest as she’s pulled to the limit, using her grip on his hair to leverage herself as much as possible. Their position makes it difficult as he holds her bottom half at an angle. She comes quickly after that, the taut line that has kept her body upright snapping as she slumps forward with Fuwa’s fingers still inside her but unmoving. Her pants and underwear still remain on, even if they’re both ruined by now. 

“Take off my pants,” she breathes out, earning a huff of laughter as he pulls his fingers out and moves to get rid of her pants. She pushes herself against the couch, feeling boneless and spent and tries to regain her breath. Fuwa nips at the inside of her thigh, making her jerk in response before he soothes it with a lick. He pulls her pants off quickly, and she wonders if she can convince him to spend the rest of the evening between her thighs but she knows he wants the next part where she gets to take him. He makes quick work of his own pants as she waits for him to pick her up. 

“Pick me up,” she tugs at his arm, pleased when he carries her. Her arms wind around his neck as he carries her into the bed that they end up sharing more often than not. At first, it was because she had dragged him to the bed to sleep when he had gotten his ass kicked and tried to take her couch. She had almost given him a second head injury by throwing the ice pack at him to get him to lie in her bed. Later on, it became a casual occurrence as he would wind up back in her apartment; she doesn’t know why she let him in, but it always helped to have someone throw her ideas despite the fact that he comprehended about half of it on a good day. And then some time along the way a bottle of wine was opened that ended in their familiarity crossing uncharted waters. Then it became easier to just continue letting him into her bed, serving perfectly as her own personal heater. 

She pulls him closer to her, just to nuzzle at his neck. It shocks her that he trusts her like this even after everything. She could have gotten him killed multiple times. Right as he places her on the bed, she kneels to pull him down beside her. The anticipation sings through her, the tingling feeling that the satiation leaves her buzzing inside her as it moves towards excitement. She sits right between his legs, hands moving to the outline of his cock that seems to strain against his boxers. 

“Don’t tell me you’re already close,” she gently mocks as she pulls down the boxers. The thickness is always a challenge but she’s always been a decent problem solver; swiping her thumb at the tip that’s already leaking, she drags it down his length before starting back at the top and pumps her hands up and down. Fuwa fists his hands into her bedsheet; she doesn’t let him come yet, building him up just to see the way that he enjoys letting her set the pace, and thrusts up into her palm. When she’s certain he’s almost close, she takes away her hand as he groans. She leans towards the bedside table to take the harness and the dildo out. 

“Be gentle,” he says with only the barest hint of a smile in his tone. It is not the first time she’s realized that he’s doomed in the way he broadcasts all of his emotions, failing at any attempts of subterfuge. She already took his trust to turn him into a weapon, the least she can do is make it mean something. As she pulls off from the bed to put the strap on, she recalls when it became a regular enough occurrence the strap had moved from under her bed to her bedside table. It had stayed there after her ex girlfriend had broken up with her two months into working with ZAIA - telling her she was more dedicated to her work than her. It stung but she wasn’t wrong, viewing that work as an extension of herself. 

And then Fuwa had come along, ignoring her rules and all but refusing to let her stay on as Gai’s right hand woman. She tries to let herself not think of the past too much, the dwelling makes it too easy to fall back into guilt. She makes quick work of the harness, grabbing the bottle of lubrication as Fuwa stretches on the bed. She doesn’t think too much about how comfortable he is in her space or how that makes her feel, instead, busying herself looking for a nearby towel. The first time they’d done this, they made a bigger mess than either of them were expecting. She hadn’t used the strap-on in a while and Fuwa was all too willing to be her return.

She maintains eye contact as she pours an excessive amount of lubrication in her palm to rub all the way on the strap and keep the towel as clean as possible before the strap-on enters Fuwa. The rest of the oil is spent on her placing one finger then another inside his ass,going slow as to get him ready. While her hand had part of his pre-come on it, it wouldn’t be enough to work on his ass in order to get him ready to take the dildo even if it is thinner. 

“Any time now, Yaiba,” he snarks, her last name a form of endearment coming from him. She makes a face at him as she moves her fingers within, hitting something that he hisses and bucks up at her.

“You said to be gentle, you oaf,” she replies in kind, still moving her fingers around to prepare him. They’ve done this a few times, and the strap-on isn’t the same as his actual cock. It’s longer and paler than his just as she aligns the strap-on towards his entrance. 

“That was before I realized you were gonna take forever,” he replies, grabbing at her hips that she tried to align correctly forward. She uses that to her advantage, the pull having enough momentum that it enters him quickly. He groans, wrapping a leg around her thigh. Her kneeling gives him space to hook the leg around it as she gets to work.

“Whatever,” she rolls her eyes, hips thrusting in slowly. She’s never injured him with the strap on, but the worry never leaves her as she tries to make sure that it goes in easy, which is absolutely thanks to the fact that she covered the strap-on and his ass in the lubrication despite his best attempts to get her to start it quickly. He doesn’t realize that his impulsiveness is stupid, if awe-inspiring, given that it’s his own ass he’s so blasé about. She slides in forward just as he tightens the hold at her hips. The harness presses against her cunt too, more friction at her center making her rock against him faster. She pulls at his other leg that he barely had time to wrap around her, making it so he’s spread around the purple dildo. It’s a heady feeling, being able to make him feel a fraction of what she feels. She tries to build up what he had done for her in the living room, but she decides against it just to push him to the edge. She doesn’t mind getting off fast, but she never does the same for him, having too much fun making him plead with her to let him come. 

They don’t talk much - or at least she doesn’t speak much that isn’t directing him. Her own breathing is what she focuses on, as she tries to not overexert herself or him because keeping his legs wrapped around her takes some effort when her thighs are working to push the strap-on in. Fuwa meanwhile can barely string together two words in between all the grunts and groans he lets out, nails digging into her thighs as she goes at her own languid pace. She derives a special kind of joy of being able to keep him quiet, astounded the first time he was quieter for longer than a minute was when he had seen the strap-on incidentally as she was in the middle of her weekly cleaning. The friction against her cunt makes her wet again, pulling one of Fuwa’s legs higher to have the dildo go in deeper. His grip slackens and tights at the back of her thighs, one hand moving down to the bed sheets so he can grip while the other doesn’t let go of the back of her knees, trying to pull even deeper. 

“Easy,” she admonishes even if the pull leaves her gasping more than it should. One hand works to keep the dildo in place. The other she uses to grip at his hip as she moves faster. She lets her nail dig into the flesh of his thigh and abandons her steady pace to chase her own release as the friction at her cunt increases. Fuwa climaxes faster than she does, his come ending at his abdomen and at her thighs. Internally, she delights at the fact.

“Yaiba,” he chokes out as she cocks her head to the side, trying to come again. 

“One second,” she holds a finger up, the friction making her blood sing as she ruts against him. The bed creaks slightly as the ruts makes her knees go deeper into the mattress; the only sound is the squishy slap of the lubricated dildo inside Fuwa as her cunt gets wetter and her nails dig into his abdomen. Her own breathing reaches a choking point as she looks down just to see Fuwa lick at his thumb and forefinger to slide it in between the harness and her cunt. She cries out as she climaxes, hands braced against his torso. 

“You cheated,” she gasps, slumping forward on his chest as her body feels so heavy, the only feeling her mind really registering boneless pleasure. The dildo remains inside him, both of them too spent to do anything considering Fuwa barely minds it and holds an arm loosely around her waist.

“I didn’t realize we were supposed to be playing fair,” he replies. They both lie in silence before the laughter bubbles right out of her and he snorts. She wraps both arms around him as she catches her breath. In a few minutes, they’ll have to get up and clean, but for right now she settles on him leaving the earlier problems for tomorrow.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> 1\. the criminal lack of yua pegging fuwa in this archive is staggering (!!!!) so i'm throwing my hat into the ring  
> 2\. i don't know how to use computers other than infringing copyright so like if i did something wrong..let me know...all my knowledge comes from person of interest and westworld and whatever shit i've remembered from stuff  
> 3\. title comes from tv on the radio's 'wolf like me'.


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